Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Ireland and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Ituana to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Visage. All the underground hits.
All Bang on a Can All-Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terror Squad Feat. Camron record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ash Ra Tempel record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Moss Icon,
Crispy Ambulance,
Cameo,
Motorama,
Harry Pussy,
Donny Hathaway,
Gang Gang Dance,
Reuben Wilson,
Jerry's Kids,
The Fuzztones,
Kool Moe Dee,
the Normal,
The Saints,
Roy Ayers,
Sparks,
Gang Starr,
World's Most,
The Skatalites,
Lalann,
Shuggie Otis,
Nas,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Hasil Adkins,
The Index,
K-Klass,
Japan,
Little Man,
Ossler,
Sexual Harrassment,
Rhythm & Sound,
Masters at Work,
Pantaleimon,
Agitation Free,
Sex Pistols,
Deepchord,
Heaven 17,
The Raincoats,
Max Romeo,
Joe Finger,
Blossom Toes,
Dorothy Ashby,
Graham Central Station,
Bill Wells,
Jerry Gold Smith,
kango's stein massive,
Can,
Index,
Minor Threat,
James White and The Blacks,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Durutti Column,
Cluster,
Make Up,
10cc,
Man Eating Sloth,
Loose Ends,
Warren Ellis,
The Star Department,
The Music Machine,
Parry Music,
Susan Cadogan,
Jawbox,
Cabaret Voltaire, Cabaret Voltaire, Cabaret Voltaire, Cabaret Voltaire.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.